out of father’s cloak

Four years old, still remember his words. In particular the harsh ones; a cowered, as complicated as your granny. A person that I have always hated. At eleven, feelings roars with passion to leave town. Mum rejected the idea. At thirty tow, on my way out of town.

Suffering continued. Season after another, longing for a truck full of glass cups ready to be smashed to a black wall with a photo of someone. Torn apart as good days still a dream; a moment in time down to lonely honey moon.

Stood at doors of deserted bedrooms while imagination flew high to the end of my grey rainbow as lakes gets drunk; so does my lungs at salty downs. Touch my hair, squeeze my knee, never mind the audience, they are just cowherds, blind, and paradise to feel the whole of me.

World, will you ever take a chance to change?, inside and just a bit off grave . Now, listen to me, I am singing my fears away, a fool for love. Gambling my youth, my heart. I’ll take your hands to a fountain of dead roses, wingless butterflies dreaming of a creeping death; since I was four pains continued dancing my blues; colorful paintings fade away. Screaming out load: a way out of father’s clock just for a night; destination: muddy complications.Who cares, it was not me anyhow.

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